


Fight or Fuck

by kaasknot



Series: The Great A/B/O Fest of 2k15 [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha!Bucky, Alpha!Steve, First Time, M/M, POV Bottoms, Scent Kink, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're a neighborhood institution: the two alpha boys who manage not to kill each other twice a year. Bucky's always been proud of that, proud that they're above their hormones, but now he isn't so sure. Steve is spoiling for a fuck, but in the absence of an omega or beta, a fight will have to do. Bucky keeps his body language open and non-threatening, and raises his chin to bare his throat. He fights himself all the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight or Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> I ~~like~~ love a/b/o!verse, but mpreg squicks me a little? So I took it out of the equation.

Steve's rut is coming. Bucky can smell it on him when he gets in that night, restless and tight-faced with nerves. He can smell the promise of it in the air, a dark, musky threat of _fight or fuck_. Steve's never been much for the latter, to be honest; too sick or too busy to be bothered. He's all for the former, but something is different, this time. Maybe it's because Steve's older, or because he hasn't been sick in almost three months. Whatever it is, Steve actually smells like an alpha, now. Bucky swallows and gives him a wide berth, and tries not to let Steve's kicked-puppy face pull him back in.

It's not safe. Everyone knows two alphas will beat the shit out of each other if they cross paths during a rut.

Bucky smells Steve's rut coming on, and when he gets home from work the next day he hides in the shower. The commode's in a separate room, so what does he care if anyone else wants in? He got there first.

He's been restless all day, too. _Just hormonal spillover_ , he tells himself, looking down at the semi he's got filling from the memory of Steve's scent soaking their bed (they still only have the one: it's small, and they barely fit on it together, but it's all they can afford). He stands under the cold spray of water and doesn't let himself think as he trails his fingers up his thigh to the crease of his ass.

 _Omegas never seem to mind much_ , he thinks. He presses his thumb against the tight pucker hidden between his cheeks. His mouth falls open beneath the spray as he presses upward and shivery sparks flare through his groin. His cock twitches and stiffens a little more, the base of it flushing red with the promise of a knot.

It's just a finger, it doesn't mean anything. Bucky slips it past the pucker, going slow against the dry pull of skin, and he gasps at the tingly, foreign feel of it.

He's seen Steve naked. They live in a small apartment and they're regulars at the YMCA, of course he's seen Steve naked. He's not _that_ big--not like the meaty alpha cocks you see in the eight-pagers. No, Steve's not much smaller than Bucky, really. Proportional. Bucky could probably take it. He trails a second finger along the edge of his hole, shuddering. His nipples are stiff from the cold.

God knows Steve's not getting action from anyone else. It's just being a good friend, that's all it is. Bucky's no invert. He imagines riding Steve's knot, looking down on Steve's flushed face, imagines taking Steve's load, imagines it dripping back out of his gaping hole--his orgasm takes him by surprise, and he stripes the tiles with a weak, stunned groan, just on his fingers. It's the forced-out, stifled orgasm that comes from a loose knot, and he doesn't go all the way down, after. He scrubs himself raw, turns off the water, and stuffs himself back in his pants without bothering to dry off. His cheeks are burning. He can't meet his gaze in the mirror.

He smells like he's rutting, too. The mingled scent of his arousal and frustration fill the bathroom until he's dizzy with it. A beta's waiting outside, his towel over his shoulder and soap in hand, and he looks annoyed--until he catches sight of Bucky, and smells the wave of alpha pheromones preceding him from the shower. He backs down real quick. Bucky would apologize, try to brush it off, but he's on edge. Has been since last night. He practically runs back to the apartment.

He sits at the kitchen table, his leg jiggling with nerves, and his shirt dries to his back. When Steve comes home, he's smelling dark and violent--his tie loose and the top button undone, his hair sent askew by wandering hands--and Bucky stands up so quick he nearly knocks the chair over.

"Hey, Stevie," he says.

"Bucky," Steve acknowledges with a terse nod. He brushes past him on the way to the sink-- _God, he feels like he has a fever_ \--and Bucky's balls draw up tight in reply. _Fight or fuck_ , he thinks. He watches the line of Steve's throat as he drinks a glass of water.

He hopes Steve won't notice, hopes that he's so wrapped up in the itch under his own skin he won't notice how Bucky's threatening to leap out of his, but he sees Steve's nostrils flare as he sets the glass down, and really, Bucky should have known better. He knows what it's like, after all, when your body sends you up the creek and every scent draws pictures in your mind; when the very brush of your clothes against your skin cranks up the heat; when your best friend's scent-mimicking ( _'cause that's all it is, it can't be more than that_ ) is as loud as a scream. Bucky's hot off Steve's scent, and _of course_ Steve smells it on him. He tries to brace himself without looking like it.

Steve, though, his eyes are _black_. They're so dark Bucky can't see a hint of blue, and his nostrils flare again. He lowers his chin.

Bucky's proud of how long they've lived together. They're a neighborhood institution: the two alpha boys who manage not to kill each other twice a year. Bucky's always been proud of that, proud that they're above their hormones, but now he isn't so sure. Steve is spoiling for a fuck, but in the absence of an omega or beta, a fight will have to do. Bucky keeps his body language open and non-threatening, and raises his chin to bare his throat. He fights himself all the way.

He's hard as a rock in his jeans.

"Don't want trouble, Steve," he says. "I can take the couch tonight, if you need. Or--or I can see if Maryann Cartwright is free tonight, get out of your hair--"

Steve's on him so fast he doesn't see him moving. One moment he's by the sink looking overheated and angry, the next he's pressed up against Bucky, his nose buried in his neck and his hard-on humping up against his thigh. Bucky's eyes roll back in his skull before he regains his presence of mind and he pushes Steve back.

"What the hell was--"

"Don't want to share you," Steve mumbles, blushing on top of his rut flush and looking down at the floor. He's shaking, Bucky sees; he's flushed and shaking, and it's not because he's spoiling for a fistfight. His hands are clenched in his pant legs.

"I'm--I'm not an omega," Bucky says, wishing in that moment, for a brief flicker, that he was, if only to make this easier.

"Not an idiot, Buck," Steve snaps, looking like nothing so much as himself in that moment.

Bucky was no slouch in school. He can do his sums with the best of them. Only right now he's confused as hell, because right now it looks like he's taking two and two but getting five. Steve's scent is thick in his nose, and he can't think to save his life. "Kinda confused, here, Stevie," he says finally. "You're gonna have to help me out."

Steve grabs him by the front of his shirt in another of those lightning-quick movements. "I want to fuck you, you numbskull," he growls, and presses his lips against Bucky's.

It's sudden and sloppy, and Bucky gasps ungracefully into Steve's mouth. Then Steve's gone, arms wrapped around himself on the other side of the kitchen, and Bucky's left staring after him, his lips warm and wet with Steve's spit.

"Sorry," Steve says, and he sounds ragged and lost. "I can go."

Bucky stares at him, and every fiber of his sinner's body yearns toward Steve. He licks his lips, tasting Steve on his tongue. He walks forward before he can second guess himself; he wants to taste Steve again, he'll only think about that, not about what society says about infertile relationships--and then he's kissing Steve, pressing him back into the counter and trapping him in place with the weight of his hips. He suckles that fat lower lip, because he doesn't know if he'll get another chance.

Steve growls, and he nips Bucky's tongue, and when Bucky pulls back with a yelp Steve's already fastened himself to the glands on Bucky's neck, worrying and sucking at them and coating himself in Bucky's scent, and Bucky lets his head fall back as waves of goosebumps wash over his skin.

"Steve," he whispers.

"Yeah, I got you," he says, and the sharp alpha smell of him spikes, flooding Bucky's nose. If their neighbors don't already know Steve's in his rut, Bucky doesn't know how they can't now. He reeks of it.

"Bed," Steve growls, and Bucky walks them toward the bedroom, helping him shuck shirts and shoes as they go. They leave a trail of cast-aside clothes all the way to the bedroom, and when Steve drags them down onto the covers Bucky arches up with a whine.

"Want you to fuck me," he says. His ass clenches at the memory of his fingers; Christ, just the thought of Stevie's knot up there sends him writhing up against Steve's hot skin.

"Is that possible?" Steve asks uncertainly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Did it with a girl, once," Bucky says. "Gotta open myself up and use a lot of slick, that's all."

Steve looks down at his erection, dripping a line of pre-come down to Bucky's thigh, and Bucky swears he blushes right down to his belly button. "I don't know how..."

"Gimme the Vaseline," Bucky says, his cock twitching in anticipation. He rolls them over, and Steve ruts up against him despite himself. Bucky smirks and lays a kiss on him just because he can.

Steve groans. "You're a tease, is what you are," he says.

"I'm the guy who's gonna let you fuck him," Bucky says, cracking open the jar. "You better be nice to me."

"I'll buy you flowers and take you dancing," Steve grinds out, taut beneath Bucky's spread legs. "Maybe we'll neck in the back of the movie theater--"

"Get our scents all over the place?" Bucky asks breathily, scissoring his fingers and chasing the sting of being stretched. "Piss off the other moviegoers?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'd hold your hand, mark you for myself."

Bucky grabs Steve's wrists and pins them up by his head. "Too late," he whispers into Steve's ear. "I got there first." He massages his wrist glands over Steve's.

"Buck," Steve whimpers. "Please."

"Yeah, Stevie," he murmurs back. "I got you. Hold on." He rears back and grabs Steve's cock, swollen and hard and twitching with the need to knot, and lowers himself down.

It's not a couple of fingers. Bucky's breath catches, and he has to slow down against the burn. His mouth falls open in loose-limbed pleasure.

" _Shit_ ," Steve cusses reverently. "God, Bucky, you're so tight--"

"Don't need to tell _me_ ," Bucky says, slipping down another inch. His thighs are trembling and sweat is beading up on the back of his neck.

Steve runs his hands up over Bucky's chest, tweaking a nipple in passing, and Bucky hisses, bearing down involuntarily and taking another inch. "Christ on a _crutch_ ," he forces out. "You don't look half as big as you feel."

"That's what they all say," Steve says, and Bucky snarls.

" _Who else_?" He's an alpha, after all.

"No one, you moron," Steve says, staring up at him with a blissed-out expression. "I meant in fights." He shudders when Bucky bottoms out and his knot is enveloped in the heat of Bucky's body. He runs his hands up and down Bucky's thighs, and Bucky just sits there, getting used to the stretch.

It's so much _better_ than a couple of fingers. He gives an experimental rock, and Steve swears and clutches at his hips, burrowing himself deeper into Bucky's ass. "Gettin' close," he murmurs. Bucky can feel the flutter of his knot against the tender rim of his hole.

Bucky doesn't give him the chance to go on, just clamps down on Steve's erection the way Alfie Morton did on his when he was in heat. Steve gives a broken, shocked little cry, and then he's inflating, his knot swelling to stretch Bucky's ass, and then he's gone--over the edge, coming with a strangled whimper. Bucky's back at full mast, just from Steve twitching and spilling. It feels like Steve is pressed up into the back of his throat; it feels like he's going to split open on his knot. He holds himself tight to Steve's hips through his spasms, and he's filled with a hot, possessive, protective pleasure. He runs his hands over Steve's skin and soothes him through the worst of his orgasm.

"That's it," he says, circling his hips. Steve moans, and Bucky bites his lip. He's past ready to come, he's got the trembling edge of another load clenching in his balls, and he drags his hand around to cover his knot. "Gonna come, Stevie," he says, and he barely recognizes his own voice. "Gonna come on your knot."

Steve's gaze is vicious and hungry. Bucky shivers at the growl that rumbles up from his skinny chest. "Do it," Steve hisses. He rolls them over, dragging Bucky by the knot in his ass, and ends up hunched over him. He's only about even with Bucky's nipples, but that's more than enough, and he breathes over them as he rocks his hips into Bucky's. "Do it, Buck."

The sudden shift in pressure and-- _shit_ , and that sting of pain, have already sent Bucky over, and it's instinct alone that has him fisting tight around himself. He squeezes against the swell of his flesh, and the shock of it sends him arching up, curls his toes, sends his free hand scrabbling to grab hold of the bedframe. Distantly he hears Steve's muffled cursing and the hot splatter of his own come on his stomach, but his world has narrowed down to the tight spasms racking through his balls and the counterpoint throb of his knot. "Steve," he gasps.

"I'm here, Buck," Steve says, kissing his chest. "I've got you."

It's tense and liquid and shot with heat. Steve's scent peaks, filling the close air of the bedroom with an alpha's triumph, and Bucky shudders as he feels another long stripe of spunk spill out of him. Steve suckles his nipple, worrying at it with his teeth, his cock twitching in Bucky's ass, and Bucky'll be damned if his own scent doesn't have a hint of conquest in it, as well. It doesn't make a lick of sense; he's got Steve's knot splitting him open, and somehow his body still thinks he's got the upper hand in this deal. He swaps hands over his knot and stretches out his aching fingers.

They stay knotted together for Bucky doesn't know how long, the scent of sex creeping up to fill the room with each pulse of come Bucky puts out, and with each brush Steve gives to his scent glands. He's almost dizzy with it, he's drunk on the smell of them, his body strung tight and trembling through the lingering dregs of his orgasm. "Jesus," he grates out.

"Bucky, God--" Steve presses his forehead to Bucky's chest, and Bucky's struck with the mental image of shooting over Steve's full lips, and sure enough, a thick pulse jerks through him. It doesn't reach Steve, though; he's winding down, he can feel it in the gradual loosening in his balls, in the waves of softer, post-orgasm pheromones wafting off him. He chuckles.

"Sorry, pal, just Bucky."

Steve presses closer at the sound of his laugh, and Bucky runs his fingers through his hair. "Doin' okay, there, Stevie?"

He gives him a long, low groan in reply.

"Yeah, I know what that's like." He's almost at the end of it, now, his cock squeezing out weak dribbles that smear between their bellies. Bucky massages his loosening knot, shivering against the oversensitized shocks of pleasure, and pulls his hand away. He wipes it off on the sheet.

Steve's still hard, still knotted, and that's par for the course, really, for a rut: more than you can take, longer than you can take it, and stronger than you can stand. His breath puffs hot against Bucky's skin.

That tender, protective feeling is back, and Bucky wonders if this is what gets omegas so hot for a knot. He's got Steve at his mercy, right now, he has him almost literally by the balls, and Bucky smoothes down the goosebumps over Steve's arms. He's dimly aware that he's riding the high of his hormones, that sooner or later reality will crash in on him and he'll remember all the shit he'd pushed aside; but for now, he's heavy with Steve's come, and he can feel his own congealing down his sides, and his alpha's pride lets him have a small, secret smile as he flexes around Steve's knot.

They're young, they're reasonably healthy, they're together. The rest can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/post/108956152994/fight-or-fuck). Enter at your own risk.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Captain to Soldier; America to Winter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534369) by [ArvisTaljik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvisTaljik/pseuds/ArvisTaljik)




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